


Snippets: Jazz/Prowl

by gatekat



Series: Short Things [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Cybertronian Time, First Meetings, Humor, M/M, Noble AU, Prowl has Major Secrets, Reincarnation, Snippets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2018-09-13 08:13:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 4,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9114568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gatekat/pseuds/gatekat
Summary: A place to put unrelated snippets, WotD things, random non-smut scenes and such of a Jazz/Prowl nature.Set in G1 (ish) unless stated otherwise.Rating, warnings and tags will be updated as needed.





	1. First Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jazz and Prowl watch their first snowy sunrise on Earth.

Less than seven orns after waking from their twelve millennia long stasis the weather outside the Ark had gone from pleasant to cool to cold and continued to downgrade as far as most Autobots were concerned. It was now holding below the freezing point of H2O and no one except Hound went outside for long if they didn't have to. The only up side was that historically this state wouldn't last more than a few orns, but the down side was that it would be back just as fast. This world orbited so rapidly that more than a local year passed in a single decaorn and rotated such that over thirteen locals days passed in a single orn.

It was more than some mecha could stand.

In this moment of calm between battles and dealing with human officials that couldn't quite grasp that "he's recharging and I will not rouse him" meant _days_ off-line, Jazz and Prowl were the only two voluntarily outside the Ark in the dark. Wrapped in a warm blanket they stood on top of an engine and looked out at the glittering expanse of stars above them and the glittering blanket of crystallized, flaky H2O below them.

"Never thought cold could make things so pretty," Jazz murmured against Prowl's audial, his chin on his mate's shoulder.

"Neither did I," Prowl agreed softly. "I'm ready to go inside though."

"Just another breem. The sunrise is worth it," Jazz nuzzled him in promise. "Then we'll warm up with all that lovely hot solvent Percy and 'Jack worked out how to make."

Prowl chuckled low in his chest, more a rumble of his engine than his voice, and relaxed into Jazz's embrace to watch the slow cascade of color light up their new world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nanoklik = 1/8 second;  
> klik = 496 nanokliks/62 seconds;  
> breem = 8 kliks/8.27 minutes;  
> groon = 9 breem/1.24 hours;  
> joor = 6 groon/7.44 hours;  
> orn = 42 joor/13.02 days;  
> decaorn = 32 orns/1.14 years;  
> metacycle = 8 decaorn/9.22 years;  
> vorn = 9 metacycles/72 decaorn/83 years;


	2. First Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prowl hunts things for a living. Jazz escapes hunters for his. Someone's perfect record is about to be tarnished.

The rush of pavement under his wheels was exhilarating by code, the speed was to his spark and the calculations to his processors. It never mattered how often he chased or who or why. He'd been called for the hunt and he reveled in it on a level even his own took notice of how perfectly he'd been called.

This moment was what he existed for even more than the capture at the end. He hadn't lost a hunt yet. How could he? He was exceptional on every level to do what he did.

Praxus was all the calmer for it. Career criminals made a point to stay still and quiet during his shifts, knowing if he was called they wouldn't escape. Chronic speeders did much the same; they put in the effort to behave or they just pulled over when spotted. The experiment that produced him was deemed so successful that there was open talk of ordering more despite the high price to produce the frame and to reserve three slots together for the priest to have the time to call just the right spark.

On a level he knew he should feel pride in this. It wasn't part of his coding though. What was in his coding was to _catch that target_.

Speed so high it took all his attention to stay on the road. A target as fast and even more agile than he was with seemingly the same knowledge of the roads.

The white vehicle in his target lock made a sharp veer and was flying over the edge, into a drop that was certainly fatal.

Prowl knew otherwise. He had nothing to prove it beyond his own calculation, yet he knew it. No frame would be found because there would be no frame. Whoever he'd been chasing knew the exact speed and angle to launch in order to land somewhere.

Anyone that brazen would be back and next time Prowl and Praxus would be ready for him.


	3. Flashbang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jazz wasn't always the smooth operator he is now.

Prowl knew he shouldn't have smirked when he got the assignment. He knew he shouldn't have laughed inside his helm. The mech deserved it though. So arrogant for his experience and now he'd have the honor of an Enforcer pulling his skidplate from the firing line. There was no need to tell him said Enforcer spent more time doing ISO work than street patrols.

The dark basement was as he remembered it, the only guest still pacing the small cell that had been installed, still trying to work on a way out.

"You are a pretty thing," Prowl cooed from the darkness, his outline only giving enough information to tell that he was Praxian. It wasn't much of a help given they were in Praxus.

"Come here and try for it," the prisoner trilled back, his stance shifting to inviting as he studied what he could see.

Prowl really couldn't hide the laugh this time, though it was one of appreciation now. "So you learned some lessons, I see," he stepped into the dim light enough for his markings to identify him. "I prefer my playmates to be less inclined to cripple me and a bit more willing than that."

"Ah won't hurt ya. Promise," Jazz leaned against the back wall and spread his legs with an inviting slide of hands down his frame.

"No, you won't. I'll take you up the offer _after_ I deliver you to Sideslip unharmed," Prowl chuckled and unlocked the cell door.

Jazz paused, suspicion written on his half-hidden features.

"Move your aft, agent," Prowl's teasing was gone as he turned to slip into the shadows.

Jazz pushed off the wall and hurried out without a sound.


	4. Blackmail pt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prowl was around well before the war and as an Enforcer he had hobbies. Not all of them are safe for him now.

"Hay Boss, you clear for a bit?" a voice Jazz hadn't heard in person for ages drew an honest smile to his features in greeting to an agent left behind on Cybertron so long ago.

"Of course, you said it was important," he put down the datapad he'd been skimming to focus on an agent that even when they were on the same planet he didn't see in his office all that often. "What did you find?"

"A dozen cubes of music, mostly live performances copied from fresh memory. They cover about five millennia before the destruction of Praxus," the agent offered a single datastick. "After scanning them, we released all but those to the public."

Jazz lifted an optic ridge under his visor and slid the datastick into a port to listen. "He's not bad," he commented as the first tones of a Praxian Circular Harp echoed inside his helm. The player wasn't a pro but had definite skills for an amateur. When a voice joined the instrument's sounds Jazz froze, his visor brightening in shock.

"Yeah. Up to you what to do with those," his agent stood. "You and 'Lash have the only copies I know of now."

"Thank you, Quicksilver," Jazz inclined his helm as the agent slipped out, likely not to be seen again until his scavenging turned up something else useful. It left Jazz alone to judge the genuine nature and damage these performances by the SIC before he was an Autobot could cause. Already he knew why they were in his hands.


	5. Blackmail pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jazz brings up what his agent found to Prowl.

Jazz relaxed in his office, twisting his chair back and fourth behind his desk. Prowl would be here in a few kliks and he wasn't entirely sure what he was expecting or hoping for. He was still trying to wrap his processor around the facts he could hear clearly. 

Prowl's voice singing. 

An instrument he still wasn't entirely sure what it was. A light harp of some kind, but not one he knew.

Praxian, and while he was more than willing to admit he didn't know it as well as Prowl, he knew it more than well enough to understand every glyph being sung and most of the subtext.

Prowl, rule abiding, former Enforcer Prowl, was singing things ... disparaging of the Prime. Dismissing of the Senate. Praising of the revolt. Most disturbingly of all, praising, open praising of Megatron.

It was incredibly disturbing given who Prowl was now.

The door opening drew him back to the room and the conversation that was coming.

"What did you find that could not come to my office?" Prowl asked with the blunt forwardness he was known for.

While he hid his relief, it did allow Jazz to relax to have such a perfect opening. "This," he said as he queued up one of the less damning songs.

Doorwings quirked up and Prowl sat down with slow calmness. "What do you intend to do with them?"

"Them?" Jazz prodded.

"I recognized much of the music released recently as performances I was there for on nights I performed. The odds everything else was found but somehow those breems while I was on stage were not are so improbable I didn't grant it a percentage," Prowl said simply. "I'm sure you have more than enough to destroy my future with the Autobots. So what do you intent to do?"

Jazz stared at him for a long moment. "Mech, for someone who could face charges of treason no matter how improbable you are way too calm."

"I'm a master tactician. I have been updating plans for this event for as long as I've been an Autobot. I knew it was only a matter of time when the first of Kellepper's recordings reached Earth."

"Wait, you know who these are from?" Jazz's optics brightened slightly.

"Of course. He was a well-known face at amateur performances and open stage events. Everyone knew he saved the memory files," Prowl cocked his helm slightly. "I knew most if not all of the performers personally as well."

Jazz settled in his chair. "So this is really you. Really real."

"Quite real," Prowl flicked his doorwings in shrug. "You truly are surprised I could sing."

"Well, yeah, mech. I'm surprised at so many songs I'd never heard of too. It's been my jam _forever_ ," Jazz stared at him.

Prowl paused, working to translate for a bit before he shrugged and accepted that he knew the intent. "You likely never heard most because most were composed by the performers, or at least by another amateur."

"And yours?" Jazz asked, almost dreading the answer. It was one thing to sing rebellious songs, especially if they were well known by the audience. It was entirely another to compose them.

"I wrote almost everything I preformed," Prowl told him calmly.

"Will you sing something for me? You have a beautiful singing voice," Jazz asked softly.

"Thank you, but I can not," Prowl shook his helm.

"It doesn't have to be something like this. I mean anything," Jazz tried to reassure him.

"I truly meant I can not. When I decided to join the very forces I'd spent centuries ridiculing I edited several protocols to ensure I could not accidentally give my feelings away. I am completely incapable of singing or playing any instrument."

Jazz felt his spark twist. He could very well imagine how much that would hurt to do to himself, the level of desperation and fear it would require. Still ... "You know Optimus wouldn't care."

"Optimus, yes. He is aware of my feelings. The rank and file are another matter. I'm sure you don't even need to imagine the propaganda potential of this, much less the value of something created after I was an officer," Prowl pointed out seriously. "There is no good way for that to end."

Jazz had to nod. "So, what is your plan?"

"When it becomes known I will either bolt or face trail, depending on how quickly I am arrested," Prowl shrugged. "Until then I will do my duty and fight for the Autobots. It honestly changes very little."

"No one is going to learn from me or 'Lash. We're the only ones with a copy," Jazz promised, even knowing it wasn't one he could be sure would be kept.

"And the agents that found the memory cubes, and those that scanned it for contents. Even so, it makes little difference. There was always the potential for discovery," Prowl flicked his doorwings in a shrug.

"All right," Jazz accepted the statement and its truth. "Do you want a copy of the original in whole?"

Prowl paused and truly seemed to think about it. His doorwings answered no before he spoke. "I would rather not be so clearly reminded of what I've lost."

"Yeah, I can feel yeah, mech," Jazz sighed and turned the music off at the end of the song. "I'll do what I can to protect 'ya. No matter the past, you work hard for the cause now."

"Thank you," Prowl inclined his helm and stood.


	6. Rainbow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been too quite around the Ark lately....

"Sideswipe!" Ratchet's roar of outrage echoed through the halls of the Ark from the officer washracks and sent nearly every mecha there into hiding.

"What did he do this time?" Prowl glanced at Jazz over the tactical table they were working on.

"Probably something with the half ton of glitter he snuck in last orn," Jazz shrugged. "Can't be too serious if Ratchet's making that kind of racket."

"So what color is Ratchet now?" Prowl's doorwings gave a small wiggle as he tracked Ratchet's storming path from vibrations until he was too far away.

"All of them," Jazz couldn't suppress the grin any more. "At least nine. We have a rainbow glittery medic for the day."

Prowl simply shook his helm and keep track of Sideswipe via Teletraan 1 and added a note in the system that Ratchet could punish him for this prank.


	7. Elevator

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not the cliche elevator scene.

Jazz kept his sigh to himself in the confined darkness of the powerless lift. He knew Prowl's stalking, pacing and silent snarls weren't directed at him but at the situation. He knew it and it still bothered him. There was no telling how long they'd be stuck and he was sure Prowl could work himself into a complete fit by then. It wasn't a field he wanted to be in close contact with for any length of time.

So...

"Prowl, com're," Jazz kept his voice low and soft as he reached out to the mech that he shared a berth with on occasion but could not be called his lover. He still didn't know how to tell when his advances were welcome.

In the dimness of their optic light Prowl's lip plates pulled back in a silent snarl, his fingers spread for a claw strike before he caught himself. His features were still wary as he struggled to pull himself together and remember where he was and what was going on. Ratchet might insist it was a flashback but Prowl knew better. He'd faced those, the terrible moments where he really was _then_ and _there_ again. Moments that broke the continuity of his perfect Enforcer memory as kliks to joors were simply nothing in his memory but a time marker. Right now he was just jacked up expecting a repeat no matter how improbable it was that Jazz was an assassin.

"Ya with me, mech?" Jazz's concern was well founded.

"Yes, Jazz," Prowl sighed and forced himself to sit down with his back against the wall. "I'm here and now. Stuck in a lift and just as helpless to help in the battle as before. Touch is not a good idea."

Jazz sat down in a mirrored defensive position as far from Prowl as the small room allowed. "So that wasn't a comrade you tried to drag to safety."

Prowl focused on Jazz, on the differences to the last time and flicked his doorwings in a negative. "He was a comrade. I did drag him to safety. Then he informed me that if I didn't desert I'd be another Deactivated on Duty designation. I fight better than he expected."

"And yet you didn't tell on him." Jazz murmured at this uncharacteristic act.

Prowl could only shrug. "He was a good mech. A good friend once. There was no benefit to recounting his final act without an order to do so."


	8. Debutant Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jazz goes to the Praxian debutant ball.  
> ...well that went sideways fast.

Of the many social duties Jazz had as an unbonded creation of the Lord of Polyhex going to every debutant ball hosted by royalty was the highlight of his metacycle. Intentionally staggered so no two cities were in competition for eligible adults it was so much fun to draw out what each mechling was really like. That it often ended for a roll or three in a berth getting to show them just how much fun their new equipment was only added to the fun.

Praxians were a flashy lot, third only to Vos and Helix in the show they made of their frames. They always made him feel under decorated despite his finish being suitable for visiting the Prime. He was sure it was simply their nature and was as much in how they carried themselves as the array of glittering things painted, glued and magnetized to their armor. This vorn's batch of new mechlings was no exception. Every one was a vision of shimmering, glittering perfection in motion and poise as they descended the ballroom's grand staircase after being announced by their creators, full designation and titles.

As much as he loved the show when the grand-creation of the Lord of Praxus was introduced he shinned in a completely different way. A simple paint job of black and white with a crimson chevron and golden chevron shield was harsh and stark, a match for features that belonged to a much longer and harder existence than a royal prince should have. He'd heard of it of course, everyone had. Lord Prowl's unpleasant nature made the entire empire glad he was a fifth creation and of little consequence politically beyond these halls. By all accounts the prince was happy about it too.

Now though, seeing that simple black and white pattern under the iridescent shimmer coat and swirling patterns of his city and station in the palest blue beryl that matched his optics and if rumor was true his spark, Jazz was sure there was something more going on. No being with Prowl's known background became that angry and cold that young. It made his spark ache to see it. He was cautious in his approach though and flitted among the more friendly mechlings first while keeping a hidden optic on Prowl as the Praxian did his duty of circulating. It wasn't lost on Jazz that Prowl's older siblings ghosted around keeping an optic on him while he socialized looking for a potential mate. 

Eventually Jazz worked his way over to Prowl. Just as he opened his mouth to greet the lower-ranked mechling he teeked Prowl's field and the _recognition-shock_ in it. As he processed that his spark went wild in recognition and screamed at him to grab Prowl and never let go. From Prowl's look and teek his spark was doing about the same.

"Not in public," Smokescreen's voice was low in Jazz's audial as the older Praxian carefully shepherded them from the ballroom. He paused when they were inside one of the private rooms nearby and faced his brother. A sharp click dragged the mechling's attention to him. "You're sure."

Prowl nodded, it taking all his effort to keep his attention on Smokescreen and not the other mech.

Smokescreen nodded and waved his fingers in front of Jazz to be sure he had his attention.

"Prowl came with a broken spark bond. You _cannot_ spark merge," he tried to ignore Prowl's threatening growl, "or you'll end up spark bonded."

Jazz's visor flickered at the seriousness of the warning. Not that it would be a political problem but he did not want to be bonded to a stranger.

"Got it," Jazz promised and Smokescreen left.


	9. Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Follows [ch 8: Debutant Ball](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9114568/chapters/36864630)

Jazz had been raised to not believe that love happened. In truth they'd tried to teach him that love wasn't real. It was only when it became clear that he wasn't buying it by pointing to his creators that they switched tactics and drilled into him that love was something a couple worked on, developed and had to maintain just as any alliance. A few vorns of watching carefully when they didn't think he was watching and he believed that. He was willing to put in the work to have what his creators had.

While he'd always known that it was possible he'd legally bond to a stranger in a political union it never occurred to him that there might be a medical reason to bond too. Prowl might have gotten the worse half of the deal but now that Jazz had been close to him for a couple orns he felt it clearly. The ache of absence had always been there he just hadn't been aware of it before because he knew nothing else. He already knew he'd spark bond to this mech soon just because of that ache even if a legal bond couldn't be arranged.

He still wanted to get to know Prowl a little better first. What the mech's hopes and plans were beyond finding his previous bonded and not hurting. What he did in his down time. If he had any favored mechanimals. Who his friends were. The little talking they'd managed between intense interfacing, exhausted recharge, tolerating Prowl's family members dropping by to ensure things were still well and that they had not merged had mostly centered on reassuring Prowl that he hadn't already scared Jazz off. Fortunately the servants were silent and timed their visits to leave energon and clean up a bit for when they were both deeply in recharge.

In this moment though he was content to look down at the recharging young Praxian that teeked so very content to be right where he was. 

He might not love Prowl but he could see a time when he would if that was what they both wanted.


	10. Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Follows [ch 8: Debutant Ball](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9114568/chapters/36864630) and [ch 9: Love](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9114568/chapters/36917781)

How Jazz allowed himself to be dragged away from Prowl and how Prowl allowed it to happen was something Jazz was sure he'd never understand. He was sure it had to do with a lifetime of obedience to the mecha demanding it.

The Lords of Polyhex had come to Praxus to hear about this mess from their third creation. Jazz was sure a bonding contract would be written before they left. He intended to insist on it.

"Creators," Jazz bowed to them when they stopped in an intimate parlor. As long as a servant was around he would be as formal as he knew how.

"Creation," Ladies Rilla and Sweetsong inclined their helms in reply and Rilla motioned them to sit on the couch together when the servant slipped away. Jazz snuggled between them and relaxed, his field beginning to express the distress in his spark.

"I never realized how much it hurt until I experienced it not hurting," he whispered and soaked in their warmth. "What do you know?"

"Only the basics. He is of age now that the details are his to tell or not. They did pass on that the priests emphasized that his temperament and sociability would improve significantly once he was bonded again."

"I believe it. Even what I'm feeling would make me ill-tempered before long," Jazz began to relax between his creators, soothed by fields and touch. As much as it was sparkling behavior and undignified in a full adult he couldn't care and they allowed it. He really did hurt. It wasn't hurting in the normal sense, not like when he snapped his leg landing badly or the crash he was in learning to drive. It wasn't even like the pain of overcharge recovery or the time consumed something that had really disagreed with his systems. This was an emptiness, something being missing, and it seemed to suck all the energy from him. Just to keeping his fuel pump going was a test of will. 

"What is he like?" Sweetsong asked when he'd settled some.

"I don't really know much. He's hurting, he's crazy focused and he's utterly terrified he's going to scare me off. It's ... hard to think about anything but getting closer to him," Jazz summed up what he'd worked out.

"Because you're functional and he really isn't," Rilla explained gently. "Do you want a contract written?"

"Yes. I want to get to know him better before we bond. I'm less sure I'll manage," he shivered between them suddenly cold.

"Given the reason for it I do not have issue," Rilla gave permission for it. "It simply won't be legal until the ceremony."

"Thank you, creators," Jazz relaxed that they really wouldn't be upset if the bond happened before the bonding. "This isn't the love match I wanted but I think I can love him. He seems like a nice mech."

"Good," Sweetsong smiled and hugged him.

"I think I'd like to go back. It's getting ... too cold," he sighed at the inaccurate description he could do no better than as much as the truth of it.

"Then go. We will work out the legalities with his creators while you keep each other warm," Rilla kissed his forehelm.

**Author's Note:**

> nanoklik = 1/8 second;  
> klik = 496 nanokliks/62 seconds;  
> breem = 8 kliks/8.27 minutes;  
> groon = 9 breem/1.24 hours;  
> joor = 6 groon/7.44 hours;  
> orn = 42 joor/13.02 days;  
> decaorn = 32 orns/1.14 years;  
> metacycle = 8 decaorn/9.22 years;  
> vorn = 9 metacycles/72 decaorn/83 years;


End file.
